


Orders

by sithwitch13



Category: Rome
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithwitch13/pseuds/sithwitch13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antony wants to see Vorenus, and rants about his latest troubles.  Non-explicit slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragoJustine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragoJustine/gifts).



> Thanks to Helarctos for reading this over. Takes place between season 2's "Son of Hades" and "These Being the Words of Marcus Tullius Cicero." Thank you so much for giving me an excuse to spend time researching ancient Rome (and though they're only hinted at, an excuse to reread the Philippics.) I hope you enjoy it, and have a merry Yuletide!

"Lucius Vorenus."

Marc Antony, Consul of Rome, seemed unable to sit still.  There was no nervousness to him, but he scorned his chair in favor of stalking the room like a cat all the same.  Vorenus, standing nearly immobile in the middle of the room, did his best to stare straight ahead and not follow Antony's motion.  It was easy; discipline was, with a few notable exceptions, his very nature.  "Sir."

  
  


Antony was silent, continuing his prowling circuit, finally stopping entirely too close to Vorenus, reeking of wine.  "How goes your conquest of the Aventine?"

  
  


"Well enough.  The other captains are scared of me.  The men are convinced that I am in league with Dis himself."  He allowed himself the smallest of smiles.  That had been one of the slips of his discipline, and even then releasing his pent-up rage had been a carefully considered risk.  "The transition of power goes smoothly."

"At least one of us is successful in that venture," muttered Antony.  "Gaia's tits, the things I have to put up with... women besieging me left and right, Cicero and the Senate never giving me a moment's rest, and somewhere--" he made a vague, furious gesture with one arm that came so close to Vorenus that he nearly flinched--"Brutus, Cassius, and even fucking _Octavian_ are plotting against me."  He laughed, short and humorless.  "A child.  Caesar's adopted son."  The last was said mockingly, with the slightest hint of the words slurring.  Given Antony's legendary prowess for debauchery, Vorenus could only guess at how much wine the Consul had drunk down before his arrival.

  
  


Antony stepped directly in front of Vorenus, asserting his eyes right where the soldier's stare had been directed.  "Well?  What have you to say to that?"

  
  


Vorenus' jaw muscles twitched as he searched for something suitable to say, and to hide his disapproval.  "Nothing, sir.  It is not my place to comment."

From the ferocious scowl on Antony's face, it was clear that the answer had been less than satisfactory.  "And if I order you to answer me?  What then?"

This time, Vorenus could not keep the corners of his mouth from drawing down.  "Then I would answer.  Sir."

"You are familiar with Gaius Scribonius Curio, are you not?  The younger, not the elder."

The name was familiar, and it took Vorenus a second or two to answer, bemused by the apparent change in topic.  "He was a tribune.  And a general at the battle of Utica, was he not?"

"Yes, he was.  He was a good friend of mine, ever since our younger days.  He died several years ago, in Africa.  Suicide."  There was something there, in Antony's voice.  Some small note of longing that Vorenus noted.  "We were great friends once."

Vorenus said nothing.  There seemed nothing to say as Antony spoke, and he had been given no question, no leave to speak.

  
  


Antony continued, loosing the look of gazing into the past that had momentarily sat upon his face.  "And you are aware of Cicero's latest attempts to undermine me, are you not?"

Vorenus hesitated.  "No, sir.  I have been busy with matters in the Aventine."

"Yes, yes, that fractious rabble."  Antony gave a dismissive wave and began pacing again, this time in a tight circle around Vorenus.  "Cicero--may Dis take his treacherous tongue and rot it in his head--has been using said lying tongue to spread rumors about me.  The Senate and populace, gossipy hens that they are, love it.  The latest one concerns me and a sheep on one drunken night."  He huffed another angry laugh.  "Tell me, Vorenus, in all the time that you have known me, have you known me to lower my standards to sheep?"

_Shepherdesses,_ Vorenus thought, _but never sheep._  "No sir," he said.

  
  


"Exactly.  I'm not some _Macedonian_."  Antony's mouth twisted in distaste.  "Among the latest crop of rumors is the one where Curio and I were lovers."  He held the angry look for a beat longer, then smiled a touch wickedly.  "So there's some truth to dear old Cicero's venom after all."

"Sir?"

"You know, he never tried to play politics with me.  Never once clumsily tried to use me as a pawn.  Never wanted me to legitimize a bastard son, or spurned me for giving an ungrateful child the beating he deserved."

Vorenus was missing something here, he knew.  He stood silently, waiting for Antony to make whatever rambling, drunken point he was trying to make.

  
  


Antony sighed heavily.  "I miss him," he said frankly.  "He could wine and wench at pace with me, and still run circles around me with his oratory skills come morning.  And he never hesitated to give comfort where he could.  Tell me, Vorenus, if I ordered you, would you comfort me like he would?"

  
  


Vorenus' jaw twitched and he blinked rapidly in sudden confusion.  "Sir?"

  


***

  
  


"So?"

"So what?"

"Did you?"  Titus Pullo, as near to a brother as Vorenus had ever had despite being nearly on par with Antony when debauchery was at hand, sat sprawled in his chair in the tavern that served as headquarters of the Aventine collegium.  He held a knife in one hand, a half-peeled apple in the other, and was eyeing Vorenus with some interest.

  
  


Vorenus' mouth tightened.  "I fail to see how that is any business of yours."

"Well, you just told me all about the rest of it, didn't you?  How did it end?"

  
  


"Obviously, it ends with me here."

Pullo rolled his eyes.  "Cac.  You're a terrible storyteller, has anyone ever told you that?"

  


  
"I don't see how that is in any way relevant.  I was simply relating events as they occurred.  He did tell me a lot about the goings-on of the Senate, of--"

"There's no dishonor in it if you did," Pullo said, returning to peeling the skin off of his apple and letting the shavings lie in a pile on the table.  Eirene swept in, refilling their cups with well-watered red wine.  "Thank you, my dove," he told her, gazing up at his wife adoringly.  She smiled back briefly before leaving Vorenus and Pullo to their talk.  "Like I said, there's no dishonor in it.  Not if you were the one doing the buggering.  And Antony seems like the kind of man likes a good buggering on occasion."

  
  


Vorenus's lips all but disappeared, they were pressed together so hard.  "Leave it, Pullo."

Pullo smirked, slicing off a piece of apple and popping it in his mouth.  "I knew you did."


End file.
